Monsters
by Broken Blackk Dahlia
Summary: This would be your everyday boy-meets-girl story, but these personalities are far from average. A club dancer with a strange past and a man who believes himself to be a monster. Throw in a bratty little sister, a murderer, and an information broker, and what do you get? Always the worst. Shizuo/OC. Humor/horror/romance type fic. T for violence, mild SC, etc. Rating may bump.
1. 1

**Yes, I have redone this general idea several times over. The 'So Unlikely' rewrite, then 'Shadows' which was turned to 'Lament of the Hunted.' Fffss. This is my finalised idea. I needed a darker tone and I just couldn't capture it the ways preceding this. _This will get darker._ 'Nuff said.  
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**1.  
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Alcohol hung heavily in the air and colored lights flashed. Bodies moved to the thudding bass of dirty dubstep, drinks in their hands and grins on their faces. Some dressed in rave attire, while others were in casual clothes, even some suits. Glow sticks flashed around their necks and in hands above the crowd, voices mingling in with the sound of the music, nearly drowned out by the latter. Light-strung clothing and glow-in-the-dark makeup adorned bodies. Some ground, and others stuck to themselves.

On raised platforms, go go and bodycon dancers moved hypnotically, coaxing men and women alike into slipping bills under the strings of their tops, bands of their too-short shorts, and the tops of their accentuated chests. Glowing neon hair extensions were clipped into some of the dancers' hair and exposed skin was splattered with fluid from glow sticks, attracting attention to the skin.

The club was dark, other than the dim blue glow of the lighted floor panels, the flash from neon LEDs, and glow sticks. People sat leisurely off to the sides of the lively place, tables placed periodically, numbers of chairs placed near them. A bar was on one wall, the long stretch of glass-topped counter askew with shot and martini glasses and leaning customers, rambling in slurs as they downed endless amounts alcohol. They ranged from fruity drinks and alcopop in fancy glasses, to hard liquor served in shots.

Patrons of the club, even after a few months of business, ranged greatly, as well. Some were regular business men and woman, finding refuge in the loud music and alcohol and moving bodies, while others were fake ID-using teens, seeking to have a taste of what adulthood would permit them to enjoy.

The scent of cigarette smoke filtered in through the open front doors, brightly colored wristbands allowing the smokers to return to the club's insides after sating their habits.

New faces shuffled past the bouncers out front and dispersed throughout the moving bodies and fools, drunk off their asses, at the bar.

Pleasure hung almost as heavily as the alcohol as bass made the bar's shelves rattle at times, the dancers still moving elegantly at the back of the club, drawing all eyes to deliciously exposed skin. Their platforms lit up with various colors, some strobing through the color spectrum to the beat of the music, while others slowly flashed and faded into the next color at their own pace.

As the beat slowed a bit, the dancers moved into the crowd and the people separated to watch the women do their jobs. Countless bills poked from their outfits, even from the tops of their flared fur leg warmers. Their bare feet moved over the blue lit floor and into the mobs, and they did a routine they had created in the hours preceding the club's opening to public. They flipped and did acrobatics so easily, holding onto each other at times, limbs flexible and surprisingly athletic.

Several of them seduced, while a few strayed to make small talk with customers and people seated on the sides, leisurely drinking and actually buying drinks for them.

A woman with dark brown hair grabbed for one of the dancers.

She had black hair with a purplish shine and numerous neon extensions clipped in. A headband made the top of her hair puff and poke out over it, bangs swept over one orange-contacted eye. Dark makeup lined her eyes, an accent of blue on her lid. Her top was a black strapless bando, bottoms a pair of metallic blue short shorts. Fishnets covered her thighs and disappeared under black fur leg warmers, flared to cover most of her feet. A tattoo of roses spanned from the front of one hip and up her side, beautifully wrapping under her arm.

The dancer's eyes widened and the woman grabbed once more, taking hold of her arm. The other placed a hundred into her top, before releasing her with a slap to her rear. Orange eyes were wide; the occurrence had become more and more frequent in the club, and it only seemed to be her and a colleague she came to call a friend. Harassment was against the club's employee-customer contact policy, and if the security took note, they would have record taken of them and get hauled out.

Unfortunately, this one hadn't been seen.

That, or security was sluggish that night.

The ravenette took a mental note to talk to a friend on the security team, before noticing a blonde near the bar, ironically dressed as a bartender, looking at her. He had a drink in his hand, and seemed to have a dreadlocked man talking to him. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to the words spilling out with breath reeking of alcohol, but more to the scantily clad, tattooed girl.

Opening her mouth as if she was going to walk over make a move, the dancer decided against it. Instead, she tucked part of her side-parted hair behind a triple pierced ear and beelined for the bar, brushing behind the dreadlocked man that spoke to Blondie. She carefully plucked numerous bills from her outfit, careful not to miss any. Counting them, she plucked a twenty from the countless papers, folding the rest and tucking it under the band of her shorts.

She'd seen the blonde several times in the past weeks and always felt an urge to go say something. He seemed fairly approachable, though no one ever did. The crowd actually divided for him most of the time. _Was he well known?_ She wouldn't have had a clue, and was obviously missing part of the picture. This guy was attractive, what could she say? That, and he always noticed her.

The other dancers flaunted more and occasionally removed their tops and played the ready and willing card, but she remained the same. Dancing for the tips and intimidating those who would take the small touches she allowed to a new level. Even still, it was always her.

"Hard cider.. Hornsby's." she requested quietly to the bartender, eyes flicking up to the clock centred above the bar; it was nearly eleven, and her shift ended at the hour. She was thankful for her night's ending coming soon. She seemed to have developed insomnia for the past week or so, and desperately needed sleep pills and her day off.

The bartender nodded with a smile and reached under the bar, popping the lid off of the already sweating bottle. The air in the club was heated by countless bodies. No one in the place could be cold; it was a hot summer night and everybody wanted refuge. The building was much cooler than the outdoors, but it was still almost too much to handle.

Even the dancers, scarce clothing and all, broke a sweat in the dark place.

Sighing, the dancer gave a tired smile and a nod to the bartender as she leaned against the cool glass and wood surface. The area reeked of alcohol to the point of disgust, but it was far cooler than the platforms or the heart of the dancing crowd.

Suddenly, Blondie had left his friend and moved to sit on a bar stool not too far from the dancer, whose eyes were shut.

She rocked slightly to the thudding bass, much different from how she moved before, and took sips from the brown glass bottle in a dainty, fake black-nailed hand. She didn't seem like too much of a drinker to the blonde, though she didn't seem like the type to have a job dancing in a club, either; though he'd seen her doing her thing countless times.

_What's next? she'll be a hooker, too._

The ravenette took note of Blondie again and dug through the wad of bills she had tucked in her shorts. Another smaller bill was dropped onto the counter. "Another of whatever this guy's drinking, for him." she said, in an accent completely foreign to blondie, gesturing to the man before twisting back to her previous position.

The bartender nodded and got to pouring another glass of whiskey for the blonde stranger. "You know him, Ryan?" he asked quietly, looking up at the dancer.

_Ryan... _

She shook her head as a no and the man behind the bar raised his eyebrows, still pouring the drink over ice that popped at the room temperature alcohol. He looked to Blondie and murmured, "It's rare for her to buy drinks for customers... You're lucky." The black-haired bartender winked, before sliding a new glass to the man just as he finished the one he had.

Blondie raised an eyebrow. _He was lucky?_ _That was unusual..._ After staring at the glass for a moment, he finally picked it up and took a drink, cringing at the burning fluid running down his throat. It wasn't pleasant, but definitely was addicting. Disgustedly, he somehow understood why alcoholics were what they were.

In the short spans of time, the dancer - _Ryan, _he finally got her name_ -_ had put back the bottle of hard cider she got and disappeared through a door close to the bar.

With a sigh, the blonde returned to his friend and made small talk. After what felt like an eternity of nonsense with Dreadlocks, the bartender caught his attention. The raven gestured to the door off to one side, where the dancer from before, dressed in street clothes, emerged.

She wore black jeans, black & gray Vans, a red tank top, and a dark skull print scarf that draped around her neck, covering what revealed skin there would be on her chest. The extensions were gone, leaving purplish-black hair to fall over the scarf. The contacts, too, were gone, leaving bright blue eyes, darkened by the lack of light.

Blondie excused himself from his friend and made his way to the girl, who was checking her phone. When she took note of his approach, she looked up with a small smile and tucked away the mobile device. She gave a questioning hum, making brief eye contact.

_Finally, she had the nerve to talk to him... or was it the other way around?_

"Hey... uh, thanks for the drink back there, "

"No problem, it's the least I can do." the ravenette said. "I hardly ever do it, but hey... gotta try new things." The blonde nodded and took a drink from the sweating glass he still held. She raised an eyebrow after a moment and suddenly asked, "Can I.. see your phone?"

It caught the blonde off guard, but he grunted an okay and dug through the pocket of his slacks and produced a scuffed yellow Razr, hesitantly sliding it into her hand.

Quickly, she flipped it open and tapped at the keys. She got the Droid version of the Razr from her pocket and clicked through his phone, before tapping at her own for a moment. With another smile - it was a bit bashful this time - she flipped it shut and passed it back to the blonde.

Without another word, she slipped off into the crowd of people, placing her phone back into the pocket of her jeans.

Flipping the aggravating device open, the blonde saw a number with _Ryan_ above it.

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**So.. That may or may not have sucked? ****This idea hit me earlier this week. I can't remember what it is, but there's another fic that kind of reminds me of how I wrote this. If it sounds too much like it so far, I'm sorry. It definitely has its own plot, I try not to copy. ;-; But the idea just overrode (is that the right word?) my thoughts...** Okay. Until next chapter~  
- Broken Blackk Dahlia


	2. 2

**2.**

Ryan swatted away a pestering man, swirling the contents of her water bottle irritatedly; the guy was harassing her to go home with him. The other dancers would do it, no problem, but she had some morals left - some of her fellow dancers even stripped up front.

Scoffing at her coworkers' lack of dignity, the ravenette hopped up onto the bar to look over the crowd. Her phone was tucked into her bandeau top and a wad of collected bills were in the waist of her shorts. She checked her phone once, then sat cross legged on the cool glass of the bar.

"Is your blonde friend showing up tonight?" the bartender asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. He looked up at the young girl on the counter and laughed as she burped and turned to respond.

That night, she wore the same orange contacts as before, and those exotic hues locked with dark brown ones. "I'm not really sure. I haven't heard from him at all." she said a bit disappointedly. "Maybe I fucked up."

The bartender shook his head. "I don't think you did, maybe he was busy."

Tenne eyes rolled. "I fucked up, I know it." Ryan slammed down the water bottle and glared over the heads of many dancing people. The sea of neon lights was almost hypnotic. As bodies moved to the throbbing beat of the crunkcore the DJ decided to play, the lights strobed. The platform lights flashed in their usual - two centre ones strobed to the bass while the others went on their own accord with the everly skanky dancers moving and flashing even more skin than what was shown already.

Her set had ended fifteen minutes before with a sea of whooping men tucking bills into her clothing, the lack thereof bothering her quite greatly, and she hadn't caught glimpse of that blonde head of hair once. It really made her wonder...

"Whiskey, " a light voice came from next to her. A woman with bleached hair slid onto one of the stools and removed a long jacket - that flicker of blonde gave the dancer false hope. She sighed when realisation that it wasn't the blonde she wished to see. The bartender went to work almost immediately at the large bill put down on the counter.

Ryan leaned back and grabbed a bottle of Hornsby's from underneath the counter and popped the cap off. She dropped a light bill on the counter behind her and looked out at the crowd. She'd planned on holding off on the alcohol until the blonde showed up, so he wouldn't encounter her when she was already on the road to getting shit faced, but it seemed to have taken a turn.

The woman next to her eyed her side; the tattoo that spanned up it was a strange sight to behold. As she slouched, the tattoo warped with the skin. "Why do you mark up your body like that?" she asked the girl suddenly.

The ravenette's bottle slipped from her hands and she cursed, snatching it up before it hit the stool between her legs. Sighing, she took a sip from it and allowed her eyes to fall onto the woman. "'Cause I feel like it. I'm terrible enough as it is, why not add to it?"

"You're different, that's for sure. The dancing doesn't make you terrible, either. It's all for the money, after all." the stranger said breathily.

_What was this woman doing?_

"How can you be so sure?" Ryan asked quietly, contacted eyes flicking back to the crowd. A crash came from outside and the woman stood. As the bartender presented the drink, the woman pushed it to the dancer on the bar.

"I've got to get out." she said, a hateful tone to her voice. Ryan raised an eyebrow at the stranger. "Goodbye, beautiful." With that, the bleach blonde woman disappeared into the startled crowd.

"The hell...?"

The bartender tapped Ryan's side. "I wonder what was with her, " the young black haired man said with a sigh. He leaned against the bar and watched as people shifted to see what the ruckus outside was.

"Whatever's happening out there. I wanna go see what it is, " she said in response. Downing most of the bottle, she jogged to the retreating crowd and pushed through to the front. One of the bouncers recognised her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You'd best not go out there. Orihara Izaya and Heiwajima Shizuo are in the street, " he advised, dark eyes moving to the busy street.

The bending screech of metal filled the air and a vending machine hurtled towards a lanky black-haired man. Ryan covered her ears at the sound and narrowed her eyes, taking note of the fur jacket-wearing man that had projectiles coming towards him. He was surely familiar; she'd heard people murmuring about him when he came through the city, but she never really paid it any mind.

The last rays of the sun stained the sky red and reflected on the buildings and neon lights were beginning to flicker to life in the dimming natural light. Soon enough, the artificial light would shine alongside the moon, and the violence was definitely an interesting show to partner the slow-moving transition into nighttime.

Much to the dancer's surprise, Blondie came into view. Turning to the bouncer, she tapped his arm. "Who's that?" she asked, eyes still set on the raging man. She knew well who it was - well, kind of. He was just 'Blondie' in her eyes, no real name put to the face.

"Heiwajima Shizuo, Ikebukuro's strongest man." the bouncer said, pulling her out of the way just as the raven-haired man leapt past and a street sign hit the ground just metres away. It dragged through the dark paved road and Ryan, yet again, cringed.

The black haired man Ryan assumed to be Izaya laughed and danced down the way, looking back at Blondie- _Shizuo_. He grinned. "Shizu-chan, you don't want to hurt the little dancer you made friends with, do you?" he gestured to the wide-eyed, scantily clad ravenette off to the side. She looked to the bouncer for some kind of help, eliciting another laugh out of Izaya.

"The strongest man, eh?" she murmured, looking to Shizuo again. He panted angrily, shoulders hunched. He looked as if he was going to go ballistic and kill the information broker.

The bouncer nodded as coffee-colored eyes set on Ryan from afar; _he was looking at her_. That was probably the most unnerving feeling she'd ever experienced, hands down. Even dancing for the wealthy regular patrons to the club, all of which had the hardest, most scouring eyes, wasn't that bad.

"Why are you bringing her into this?" the blonde snapped, his eyes flickering over and glaring daggers at Izaya. He grunted and uprooted a vending machine. The crowd screamed and those closest to the street dove for cover as the red metal machine was thrown. The bouncer took Ryan's shoulders again and pulled her out of the way, shielding her from the shower of uprooted concrete bits.

"I think you should go back inside, " he told her quietly. With a nod, she stole a glance under the man's shoulder at Blondie, before disappearing back inside the club.

…

Ryan tapped her nails against the bar top while swirling another bottle of hard cider. She'd gone through a second, and was on her third by then. Irritation and wonder both swarmed her thoughts. An hour had passed since the occurrence outside. Izaya got toppled by a trash can from what she heard of it, and Shizuo had walked off cursing once the former made his escape.

"Maybe he and his friend will come in later, " the bartender reassured her. He wiped out the inside of a glass and poured a fruity drink for a woman down the way. As he slid it to her, Ryan's phone buzzed in her top.

She pulled the Droid from her scanty top and unlocked the screen. A text alert flashed on the notification bar in blue. She made a face and checked it; it was from a friend who wouldn't clock in for a few hours.

_ 'There's a murderer on the loose I guess, real creepy stuff. A girl was just found with her throat slit just a few blocks away from work. It actually looks like one of the dancers.'_

The ravenette raised her eyebrows and sipped at the bottle. She tapped out a response with her free hand and sent it, signaling for the bartender to come over and have a word. "There's a killer out there, " she said quietly. "One of our dancers was picked off."

The bartender took a deep breath. "Emiko clocked out just before that whole thing outside, do you think it was her?" he asked, looking up. He made eye contact with a new customer and forced a smile, despite the dire news he was hearing of.

"It might have been, " Ryan murmured, sending another text regarding the girl it could have been. Emiko was one of the more reserved dancers, much like the friend she was currently texting. She only did it for the money; the job seemed pretty high up since they weren't classified as strippers. They entertained a vast majority of the area's young adult population, so it seemed like a good thing.

_It was... Right?_

_ No, of course not._

Several more hours passed. The ravenette watched the clock tick by. She even jumped into another set at last minute. By the time her shift ended, her hopes of seeing the blonde had dissipated.

* * *

A girl walked down the backstreets of Ikebukuro. Her apartment was in the general direction, and she was slurring and tripping. A pink bedazzled flask was clutched in her fingers lightly and a grin spread over her face. She sang to an imaginary tune and it echoed in the alley.

No one was in the area, but imaginary shadows flickered by mouths of the seemingly endless alleys branching off. The street was clear to see through one, but the girl pushed on in her drunken state. Thinking about the shadows made her a tad paranoid, so she continued to drown it out with alcohol.

"Five more minutes, " she sang contentedly. Her eyes set on a fire escape branching up the back of one of the furthest away buildings; that was her destination.

What the happy girl didn't notice was the particular shadow that followed along behind her in the gloom. She saw the other shadows, and passed it off as one of the others. Not as a real one, of a very dark person. They were clad in a dark trench coat and generally dark clothing underneath.

A silvery glint came from the silent pursuer's hand, cast by the moonlight filtering past the tops of towering buildings. The wind blew through hushedly and made their coat whip back around them, though they urged onward with a devious, Cheshire grin spread over his lips.

As the girl got closer to her destination, her hands brushing the metal of the fire escape, the stranger rushed her. She tried to scream, but it was muffled by a damp rubbed leather glove. The lipstick that was on her lips moved grudgingly against the glove as she, again, attempted a scream.

With a rough jerk, the attacker silenced her and uttered, "You, miss, are absolutely dazzling, I must say."

The pink-wearing drunken girl's eyes were wide as her captor examined her for what felt like centuries. She couldn't make out any more than the grin that was spread over the person's face. It was too dark and her vision was blurred from the excessive amounts of alcohol she'd consumed over the course of the night.

"Why are you out so late?" the stranger asked quietly, easily bringing his blade to the young woman's throat. He threw back the sleeve on one arm and looked at the wristwatch on it. "It's nearly four in the morning."

The girl stumbled over her words. She bumbled out an apology and a question. _Why are you doing this to me?_ Then she sobbed lightly. Her captor shook his head.

"You need to answer me-" he said a bit more seriously. Chills rippled up the girl's spine. "_Why are you out so late_?"

"I was.. drinking…. With some friends." the girl slurred lightly, eyes transfixed on the killer. She attempted to make out the face of the ominous stranger, but failed. In her drunken state, all she could do was stare with terrified, dilated eyes.

The stranger shook his head and let out a bone chilling cackle. "Well, you chose a bad night to be out so late." In seconds, the blade was drawn across the woman's throat and a bloody gurgle of a scream echoed in the dark.

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**That might have sucked. :D But I dunno. I tried. Reviews are much appreciated, but hey. Not needed, though it helps me get chapters out sooner. In other words, explains why I almost never update this one. Okay. Until next chapter (if ever)~**


	3. 3

**3.**

Ryan walked about the airport with narrowed eyes; she wasn't used to being out so early in the day. It was barely past nine o'clock, and her sister would be arriving at the airport any minute. People whisked past, casting the nightclub dancer odd looks as they did. She wore short shorts with tights underneath, a red tank top, and a huge black cardigan with a patch with the British flag on it sewn into the back, with dark, beaten Vans.

A cigarette hung from her lips as she paced at the front, checking the screen of her phone every few minutes. She still hadn't heard from Blondie—_Shizuo_, she, again, told herself – yet. Since she was brought up between Izaya and the blonde, it made her wonder what the two fought over. She sighed and looked around, "Where is she at?"

Off to the side a young girl had been sitting by herself, watching Ryan with an uncertain look. She'd been sitting there since even before Ryan had entered the airport, listening to music through headphones and thumbing through a paperback novel that had been bought from a vendor in the airport.

The girl was obviously tall, noticeable even while sitting, and had outrageous blonde curls that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a white eyelet dress that barely reached her knees, and rose pink strap sandals with a flower on it. A belt of a matching color encircled her waist, and the girl's hair was pushed back with a pair of expensive looking white sunglasses with gemstones studded in them.

The girl wrinkled her nose, and got to her feet. "I said the eight o'clock flight, you 'baka'." Eden announced loudly, causing a few people to look at her curiously before quickly looking away at the sour look she gave them in return.

The pacing ravenette stopped and scowled. "Eddie, you're just as bratty as I remember." She uttered with a smirk. She dropped her cigarette butt and stomped it out with the worn sole of her shoe, before going for another one. "I'm fucking stressed already."

Looking over the obviously aged girl she called her younger sister, her tired blue eyes took in the clothes she wore. It was sickeningly girly, much like the clothes she was forced into as a child, or for special events that went on in her boring teen years. Modeling came to mind and she wrinkled her nose; those were the bad days.

Eden titled her head, leaning her weight on one leg and putting a hand on her hip. "Well, you're certainly are a lot more _crude _than I remember." She pulled the handle of the suitcase she had next to her up and rolled it behind her as she approached her older sibling. "Mother would be appalled at how you're dressed. A right street walker you are." She appraised Ryan with a superior look and nod. "Quite a good deal shorter, I might add."

Ryan couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. "Have you looked in the mirror? I've seen five men look you over since you made yourself known to me." she looked over her sister again and gave a curt nod, pursing her lips. She lit the new cigarette and took a puff of it, exhaling the searing menthol smoke through her nose. "And I think I might be better suited than you, in that skimpy little dress of yours." She lifted the full face helmet from her side and grinned. "Guess who doesn't have a sissy bar?"

Eden's tanned face briefly colored, but she recovered quickly with a haughty toss of her hair. "At least I get looked at. I bet the last time someone 'looked you over' was Franklin in the eighth grade." The thought of the acne riddled boy with the oily bowl cut, head gear, and cold clammy hands brought chills to even her spine.

Her face paled, and she studied the helmet like it might have been straight from Satan's wardrobe itself. She coughed, and looked away. "There's no way your bloody motorcycle can carry my luggage." She pointed out.

"I've got saddle bags, honey." Ryan laughed. "And… you wouldn't believe the looks I get. It's not always a good thing, either, but I've caught the eye of a…" She thought for a moment, then grinned. "…decent lad. That aside, I suggest you hurry your hussy arse up and come along, "

"That you certainly do." Eden muttered. She rolled her bag at Ryan, and turned sharply on the ball of her foot. "I am going to hail a cab. Mother forbade me to ride on those contraptions without an adult driving." She sashayed away. "I will be back in a moment." Eden paused, and looked over her shoulder at her sister. "Also; don't talk like that. You're disgracing us all." With that she vanished into the crowd.

Ryan gave the teen a ridiculous look and watched her stride away proudly. "Hasn't changed one bit since I left, " she muttered with a smile. "It might have gotten worse, actually." The humorous realisation occurred to her and another laugh escaped her lips.

…

One cab ride later, which most of which Eden spent with her eyes glued to the window, taking in the sights, they arrived at Ryan's apartment complex. Eden gave her sister a disdainful look, who in fact was sitting out on the steps, smoking yet another cigarette. "Are you going to be a decent hostess and help me with my luggage?" She called. "Don't worry, I'll let you carry the smaller one."

Sighing and rising, Ryan nodded. "Alright, I'm not going to be a complete asshole, " Striding over, she picked up the smaller of two bags and grunted, looking over the matte pink floral suitcase. "You chop up a body and throw it in there with paperweights?" she asked mockingly, before starting up the stairs.

"Oh, bother. I meant throw that one into the river." Eden huffed with irritation. "I must have left the proper one at home." She tipped the cab driver, and he gave her a worried look before driving off slightly above the speed limit.

Ryan pushed past one of her neighbours with an off look and marched up several sets of stairs, before reaching her floor. She jammed a key into its respective lock and turned it, kicking the door open to reveal a surprisingly classy interior. All white and black furnishings adorned its insides, atop both white carpet and pale wood flooring with white painted walls. Several pictures and paintings, too, adorned the apartment walls.

The younger girl trailed after Ryan, and peeked over her, fearing the worst. When she wasn't greeted by empty food wrappers and stray underwear, she raised shaped eyebrows in surprise. "Not bad." She actually complimented. "Too bad the smoke stains lower the whole quality of it all." She took over command of her other suitcase, and wheeled them inside.

"Rule number one. I am not going to share a bed with you like I've had to before. You kick in your sleep. Rule number two. I'm not sleeping on a couch, cot, or mat. An inflatable mattress would suffice if worst comes to worst." Eden gave her a look, receiving one that screamed attitude in return. "You asked for this, so you've no room to complain."

The ravenette sighed. "I only kicked because I knew you were there, " she muttered, moving to the kitchen to fish through its contents for a can of pop. "I've got you covered, too. I moved apartments, so this has two bedrooms. All you have to do is put on sheets." Finding what she was looking for, she cracked open a can of Coke and shut the fridge. "You have no room to throw a fit. I even got cable and Wi-Fi."

"Me? Throw a fit?" Her sister asked all too innocently. "Never." She shook her head slightly, looking mildly amused. "Oh, Alexandra. At least get a glass for your drink. There are so many germs on the mouths of cans, you could get the plague just as easily as that." She turned and located the spare room on her own after catching her sister rolling her eyes at the informational statement. A moment later she exited with the smaller suitcase and commandeered the bathroom.

"I also remembered your quirks, oh, sister dearest. I have the whole color spectrum in fucking hand sanitizer." Ryan yelled in response, grabbing a container of small fancy-scented hand sanitizers from under her kitchen sink. Striding to the hall, she tossed it and barely cleared the spare bedroom door with it. "I work nights, as well, so you'd best learn to manage yourself when it comes to curfew if you haven't already."

Then the recent murders came to mind; they all happened in the evening hours. The older of the two siblings sunk her teeth into the inside of her cheek. She felt like mentioning it, but the news would be too sudden, not to mention a shock, to her newly arrived sister. They hated each other for the most part, but the raven couldn't help but feel concern – the blonde girl was now in her charge, after all.

"The only germ I fear is you." Eden retorted. She gingerly ran her finger over the bathroom counter. Powdery, greasy, and sticky, with the occasional pitch hair nearly glued down to the porcelain; just as she feared. She inspected the conditions of the whole bathroom, and her judgment was displayed with a grimace. It simply would not do. The first thing she would do was clean the bloody mess. She pushed the bathroom door shut, and locked it.

…

Ryan hesitantly emerged from her bedroom, after having slept most of the afternoon hours away. Her hair stuck up messily and was in desperate need of brushing, but she paid it no mind. "Why the bloody hell does the bathroom reek of flowers?" she nearly yelled as she passed the door. "It used to smell like my perfume… goddamn, what did you _do_?"

She strode into the living room and opted for the sliding glass door. She pushed back the heavy curtain and slid the door open, looking at the late afternoon sky that was steadily staining red.

"It does not reek!" Eden protested. She looked up at Ryan as she passed by. "I know it did, now it smells like mine." She muttered. "I spent all that time cleaning, so don't mess anything up." She looked down at a magazine she'd brought with her from Chiswick. "When is the last time you bought a new toothbrush?"

"Few months ago…" Ryan muttered from where she stood. Moving the door shut, she picked up her charging phone and checked the screen. A new text notification flashed on t, much to her surprise. After a quick, surprised response to a curious text from Shizuo – who was still called Blondie in her contacts – the Droid was tucked into the back pocket of her shorts. "Do you think you can handle yourself tonight? Or do I need to order some takeout?" she asked quietly, glancing at her sister.

"Your fridge is in sorry state." She admitted. "I'll be fine, however. My stomach is still back home." She dropped the brat act for a moment and looked hopefully at Ryan. "Do you think you could get some chocolate on your way back, though?" She gave her a slight smile. "Mother ran me ragged getting ready for this trip."

The ravenette gave a smile in turn. "Insult my fridge, you insult me." She got a small 'good' out of her sister and proceeded. "I can most definitely get some chocolate on the way home – not the shitty kind, either. But I hope you take kindly to being woken at four in the morning for chocolate and takeout foods and fancy marble pop."

Whisking to her room, she stepped into the shoes she earlier wore, combed her hair, and returned to the living room. She leaned over the back of the couch and placed a kiss on the top of her sister's head and moved to the door. "Don't open it to anyone and don't talk to the neighbours, they're all fucking creeps, and I'll see you in the morning."

Eden gagged dramatically, brushed her hand over the top of her head lightly, and twisted in her seat. "Oh, wait! Does that include the man with the jacket?" She muttered something about faux fur in disgust before carrying on. "He talked to me in the airport before you came." She gave Ryan a smirk. "Is he your gentleman friend?" She giggled. "He also stopped by when you were napping. Gave me a single white rose and welcome me to Icky-buku-uro, whatever this forsaken place is called."

Ryan stopped in the frame of the door and nearly threw the vase on the nearby table. "That piece of shit…" she snarled. "Why the hell would you answer to him? He's not… okay to associate with. I was warned to keep away from him on my first damn day. I don't take kindly to him." Giving a glance at Eden, she sighed. "If he comes back, you tell him I'll smash his face in with a metal bat."

Her hatred towards the information broker was triggered by, both, his knowledge of her and the bone he had to pick with Blondie. It bothered her, because the blonde seemed like a pretty nice guy – other than being the city's strongest man – and Izaya just seemed like a prancing rich boy who knew far more than he needed to. But that was just her opinion.

"You're so ladylike, sister dear." Eden uttered sarcastically. She failed to bring up the fact that he had a key. Ryan was probably just flustered that her boyfriend stopped by before she'd introduced her to him.

With that, the older girl whisked out the door and slammed it, the locks audibly being turned into place. Eden rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the ridiculous Japanese sitcom that flashed on the screen. Then, she heard a faint, 'text me if you need me' through the door. The younger girl yelled an okay in return and settled in for the excruciatingly boring evening ahead.

* * *

A shadowed form sat on the balcony of a murdered couple's apartment, a bloodied knife in-hand. A smirk played on his lips as he watched a hardly-lit apartment across the way. It was one of the pricier complexes in the district, and it made him wonder how a lowly club dancer could afford such a place.

After many minutes of simply watching a faint form move about restlessly, it moved to the balcony as well. He heard the person say something in triumph, followed by the sound of ripping cardboard. A small box was taken from the larger and was tossed into the street below.

"How charming, " the figure said with a low laugh, slowly twirling the blade in his hand. The girl hadn't even taken notice to him despite cold, shadowed eyes being on her the entire time.

Another box, and another, was taken from the larger again. As before, they were tossed. The larger one, presumably emptied of all its contents, was then thrown as well. The figure retreated to the apartment to emerge again. One last thing – incredibly small, at that – was tossed. It landed with an audible clatter on the street, even from the high distance up.

The girl leaned against the rail of the balcony for what felt like centuries, before retreating to the clean apartment for good. After a few minutes, the lights flickered out and the stranger rose and turned to the new victims' apartment to take leave.

* * *

**So this chapter may have been iffy, I'm not sure. I'm kind of making a bulk update because my friend (and editor) and myself were hanging out for three days and had no wifi to upload, so we derped about and roleplayed out most of this. xD So I apologise if this or anything in the future is weird or sucks. Also, Ryan isn't being OOC (OCs can be OOC, what?), she's just acting how she would as a teen, the last time she saw her sister. So yeah, until next chapter~**


	4. 4

**4.**

"Wha…. What the hell do you want?"

Eden knelt by Ryan's head, her arms and chin resting on the edge of the bed. She stared at her sister with wide owl like eyes, and shrugged. "I made you breakfast. It's getting cold. How do you stay in bed so late?" She asked, rising.

The older girl scowled. "Oh, I dunno… maybe because I work until three, four in the morning." She muttered, narrowing her eyes at the light that filtered in from the other room. Her blankets were askew, sheets barely on the bed, still. As she sat up, her back cracked and she groaned. "Can I just go back to bed?"

"No. I know that once I wake you up good enough you won't be able to get back to sleep, so…" Eden deftly whipped off whatever blankets remained on her sister, and flicked on the lamp by the bed. "And in this corner, the world renowned Eden Vesalius!" She shouted like an announcer at a wrestling match. Before Ryan could react she launched herself across her body with a triumphant grin.

"Antichrist child, what the hell!" the ravenette screeched, easily lifting the other off of her and tossing her away. She unsteadily rose from the mattress and smirked as Eden hopped to her feet. Easily, she shouldered the girl and walked to the kitchen. The blonde girl was pounding on the smaller one's back, eliciting a cackle of sorts from the latter.

"You hit harder now, too. I'd be afraid to piss you off for real, Eddie!" The younger sibling was dropped over the back of the couch, and Ryan made her way to the kitchen to examine what her sister had made.

"I'll show you piss!" Eden snarled, trying to righten herself up from the tangled heap she'd landed in. "My hair is a mess!" She fled to the bathroom to regain control of it.

She'd made a slap dash meal of leftover fried rice and scrambled eggs with fruit salad on the side. After fixing her hair she exited to the kitchen and slipped around Ryan, grabbing the carton of orange juice from the fridge. She began shaking it and deftly poured two glasses.

With a sigh, Ryan plopped into one of the few dining chairs that surrounded a dark wood table, setting the plate she held onto it. Eden slid a glass of juice in front of her and she raised an eyebrow. "You really are too kind, I'm a bitch and you make me breakfast." She laughed to herself and took a mouthful of the scrap thrown together out of the scarce meal-foods in the fridge. "We really are quite the pair."

"Don't get used to it. Mother asked me to be nice to you for at least a week after I arrived." Eden sniffed, sliding into a chair of her own and picking at her serving. "I'll be back to my righteous self in no time."

"Righteous my ass, " Ryan grumbled around a mouthful of food. She glanced at the moving girl out of the corner of her eye; the speak of their mother brought her down a bit, though it couldn't become too apparent to her sister. Her mother's dire words were still fresh in her mind, _'She mustn't know of it. Not until it is finalised. I may or may not be on my death bed within the month, but your sister shan't see me in such a poor state.'_

She pursed her lips and looked to the sliding glass door. In a flash, she moved from the chair and into the living room, where she flipped on the television. She changed to the news channel and hoped to listen in on any updates on the killer. From the minor buzz she'd heard before her trek home, the killer had indeed struck again. This time, it was just across the way from her apartment. When word of its closeness to her sister came her way, she nearly had a miniature heart attack.

"Oh, bother. Turn that thing off." Eden muttered. "It was bad enough listening to them all night and morning." She'd hardly gotten any sleep once the bodies were discovered, and the police and reporters were so bloody annoying. To think she'd been outside around the time of the deed, too…She got gooseflesh, and pushed her plate away, not hungry anymore.

"Pardon, but I was gone and sleeping when most of this went over. I'd like to hear about it."

"…_the bodies were found, throats slit, about four this morning. Coroner's reports show that time of death was approximately midnight…"_

The ravenette hunched on the couch and ignored her rumbling stomach, only bounding back to the table to fetch her glass of orange juice. She moved back to the plush couch and settled once more, watching the screen. Her phone buzzed on the table, but she paid it no mind; It was early and cares about technology, and people trying to speak with her was of no interest to her.

Eden's attention was drawn to the phone. With a sly move she reached across and checked the screen. After a moment, she cleared her throat and leaned back in her seat, draping an arm over the back of the chair while lazily waving the device in the air. "Now, is Blondie of the double X or maybe the X and Y group?" She asked.

Ryan straightened and glared over at her sister. "Put my phone down." She growled, making solid eye contact with Eden. "Shizuo is no one of your business." Giving one last glance at the blonde girl, she turned her eyes and ears back to the newscaster on the screen, and the gruesome photos from the scene in the corner.

"I'll bet he isn't, mm, mm." Eden teased, fiddling with the password. She'd figure it out eventually. Might as well lock Ryan out for a few hours, though. She got up and placed her plate in the fridge, and drifted to the guest bedroom. "I'm going back to bed. Have fun your with your other boyfriend. Don't worry, I won't tell faux."

…

After around an hour, Eden emerged from the spare room to find her sister asleep on the couch. A a faded pastel rainbow knit blanket was draped over her, steadily rising and falling. The air conditioner was humming in the background and the television bumbled on with the news.

Eden almost went and stared at her again like she had that morning, but decided not to. She couldn't watch television, she wasn't in the mood to mess with her electronics, and nobody interesting was available to text to. She glanced at the door, and titled her head. She wanted to go explore, but goodness knew what lay outside. She sighed, and contented herself in cracking Ryan's phone code.

It wasn't too hard to crack. After trying birthdays, pet names, and various food names that Ryan liked, Eden got the random bright idea to type in Ryan's favorite four letter explicit. Well, what do you know. Eden almost left right then and there, it was just too much. She scrolled through contacts, lurked on the internet history, and read Blondie's conversation with her sister. Occasionally she'd snicker wickedly to herself.

The conversations with the mysterious person darted back and forth aimlessly at some points, and wandered to the strangest of topics at others. The most recent message was something about meeting up during Blondie's break and Ryan's day off being that day. That was a good hour back, and it made Eden wonder if he got impatient with her sister.

"What the hell are you doing?" a tired voice came from behind the girl. It was obviously Ryan, who had slept restlessly for the past hour.

Eden smirked. "Reading your conversations." was her blunt reply. She could hear her sister rise, the soft drop of the blanket audible from where she sat. "You speak of the weirdest things with this Blondie guy. But, ah, a text from an hour ago says, " She cleared her throat and made an attempt at a masculine voice, "_I was, uh, wondering… if you wanna meet up_—"

Within seconds, the phone was snatched from her manicured hand by Ryan's own. "I told you he's none of your concern."

"Do you fancy him more than you do Mr. Faux Fur Jacket?"

Ryan glared at the top of her sister's head and muttered, "I don't like that pansy Izaya."

She gave Ryan a dull look. "Of course." She said, getting up from her seat and going into her room.

…

Ryan pulled her hair out of her face and glanced over her shoulder. "So you're telling me that you'd be happy staying home all day? Not boy hunting or mall wandering?" she quirked an eyebrow at the girl as she straightened her cardigan and slipped into her shoes from the previous day.

She haphazardly threw her blanket over the couch and went to the fridge. She dug through its contents, shoving past countless cans until an everly -familiar green and black one came into view. She got the tall can and shut the fridge with her foot to watch as Eden emerged from the hall.

"Oh, come on." Eden scoffed, plopping down onto the couch. "That's not all I'm into." She was holding a green plaid zippered pouch, and she held it up so Ryan could see. "I'm going to paint my nails. It's going to take a while, and I don't want to mess them up, so I'm perfectly fine with staying inside. You go have fun with your friend."

Ryan sipped from the energy drink can and slowly nodded. "Okay, " she said, narrowing blue eyes. "Suit yourself. If you wanna hit the mall or something later and I'm still gone, just send a text." She brushed past her sister and patted her shoulder on her way to the door.

"Just like before, " she sighed. "Don't answer to strangers – or Izaya. Most of the neighbours are those business men who eye pretty teenagers like you, so don't even start with them." The ravenette ran a hand through her hair and made a face. "Just…. Be safe."

Eden visibly shuddered, and nodded curtly. "Will do." She said, pulling out a bottle of nail polish remover and pouring some onto a cotton ball. "Oh! Hey, if you get take out again, would you mind getting some sandwiches, like…Oh, Subway? That's what it's called? The greasy stuff you get will make me break out."

Ryan raised her eyebrows and chuckled. "Sandwiches… I'll try to remember." She said, taking another drink from the can in her hands. "You're such a priss sometimes, but.. it's what makes you my sister. See ya later, brat."

"You can be a twat, too." Eden snapped as her sister left. She turned on her music player and got her left thumbnail cleaned and sharpened before she looked at the door. She smirked.

…

"…I don't even know how it works, but she _likes me_..." Shizuo said as he paced with a cigarette in his hand. Much to his surprise, he'd actually gotten a girl to meet up with him. Just a few days after her finally noticing him, he had time to just talk with her. No lights or dancers, or men who lacked respect shoving bills into her outfit. Just… them.

Plus Tom, of course; the only dilemma.

The dreadlocked man raised an eyebrow at his bodyguard. "Well… from what you said, she's fairly normal. Maybe she just has… different taste in men." He watched the blonde pace restlessly with a cigarette in his hand. He'd been doing that for the past fifteen minutes and it was just starting to wear on his nerves.

"But I'm a brute, and—"

Tom cut him off. He tapped Shizuo's shoulder and looked behind the blonde. "Hey… I think she's here." His eyes set on a short girl walking that way with raised eyebrows, a half-smile on her face. She'd obviously witnessed the blonde's pacing from afar.

"Seriously?" Shizuo turned and looked to where Tom was pointing. Sure enough, a short girl with blue-black hair and a curious smile was swaying their direction. She gave a curt wave and sipped from a black can. An oversized cardigan hung from her frame and the bottoms of ripped jeans almost dragged on the ground.

Ryan opened her mouth to have no words come out. She hesitated and waited until she got a bit closer to Shizuo, to give a light, "Hey." Blue hues flicked to the dreadlocked man he stood with and her eyebrows rose further. "I… didn't know…"

"I was just about to leave." Tom said matter-of-factly, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you in an hour, Shizuo."

The blonde gave a grunt of acknowledgement and watched as his friend disappeared into the crowd. With an awkward half smile, Shizuo turned back to the short girl adjacent to him. "Hi…" he said. "You… look nice."

Ryan raised her eyebrows. "I.. just threw this on and left…" she replied bashfully. "But thanks. You're looking pretty dapper, yourself."

Memory of being woken a third time that morning by Eden came to mind. The ravenette had to rushedly hop in the shower, wash off the sweat and leftover makeup from the previous warm night, line her eyes with black, and struggle into clothing. It was a ridiculous rush to observe, according to her sister.

"…dapper?" He made a face and snuffed out his cigarette.

The black-haired girl shook her head. "It's a British thing, sorry." She said with a sigh. Swirling the contents of the can she held, blue eyes looked up. _I never realised how tall he is…_ A silent comparison of height had her feeling even worse about how tall she was with her sister's fun at it.

Shizuo cleared his throat and made an effort at small talk, "So… Um… The weather's nice." He wanted to hit himself for how stupid he sounded, but he wasn't sure what else to do in the moment.

"It's a whole lot different from what I'm used to, " she sighed in response. Shaking her head, she looked up. "Anyway, how's… work?"

He chuckled awkwardly. "That's going to be a tale to tell."

"Well, there'll be a lot of time if I don't screw up." Ryan smiled and ran a hand through dark, messy locks and glanced at passerbys. She pursed her lips and tried not to laugh at the bizarre look she received from the blonde.

"Meaning…?"

"I never really have luck with people when it comes to a personal level… so I'm going to try not to mess up." She tapped her lips with her index finger in thought and turned on her heel. "Wanna walk somewhere?"

* * *

**Yeah... that probably sucked. Oh well. I did try. Again, part of a bulk, three chapter update. Final part. I hope to have more out soon~ -w- Until next chapter~**


	5. 5

**And, I'm not sure if this one's too entertaining. Just a filler. I can't jump into things too quickly and all this. :P Blah.**

* * *

**5.**

Ryan slipped past tables and had a few bills slipped into the waist of her shorts just for being there. She sent strange looks at some of the men and pressed on, swaying to the beat as she walked. She plucked all of the stray bills from her garb and sighed, folding them with dainty hands. As she approached the bar, the everly-present bartender gave a nod.

Hopping up onto the counter, the ravenette watched as the black-haired man down the way eyed her. He was obviously foreign to Japan like her, with lighter roots and pale eyes, visible even in the dim glow of the club. He only took his eyes from her for a moment when the bartender slid a drink to him.

The bartender, too, was a foreigner. She was hit with the realisation as he walked over with a smile; it had never occurred before then, and they'd become quick friends when she arrived in Ikebukuro and took up her job. "How's it going?" he asked. He seemed kind of down, yet still maintained his positive energy. She wondered what was plaguing the man's thoughts.

"I'm starting to question my choice of work. All the men are absolutely obscene in here." she said with a sigh, before looking over at him. Even while perched on the bar, he was nearly taller than her. "What's got you so down, chap?" A small bill was dropped on the counter and the tender gave a nod.

He fetched a bottle from below the counter and seemed to ignore her question. "I talked to the boss and got a few cases of your Strongbow in." he said as he placed one import bottle beside the girl.

Ryan picked up the bottle and examined it briefly, before popping its cap off. "Aw, you couldn't get draught?" she asked quickly, raising manicured brows. She sipped on the cider as the bartender shuffled off to tend to one of the whorishly dressed women down the way - she was almost more poorly dressed than the alcohol-sipping ravenette, and she did it only because of the pay and how easy it was to maintain the job.

When the barman returned, a frown stole his features. "The other thing is, you know how I was worried that my girlfriend was going to break it off with me?" At Ryan's nod and a look, he went on, acknowledging her morbid curiosity. "I had a nightmare about it and talked to her this morning, and she confessed to cheating on me with one of the guys from her work."

Ryan snorted. "Doesn't she work at a cafe?"

The bartender nodded sadly. "A maid cafe. I guess the guy's the doorman." He had a hurt look to his eyes and the ravenette sighed.

She nearly flung herself onto the black-haired man, giving a comforting bearhug. "I'm so sorry, Kyle. You're too good for her, anyway." she said as he gave a squeeze in return. She righted herself and gave a reassuring smile. "With that natty waistcoat and skinny jeans, you could sway anyone you like." The dancer smirked and straightened the front of his black vest. He gave a half hearted laugh and she cast him a somewhat sad, sympathetic look. "It had me worried, with how you were talking." She waved a hand for emphasis. "But I just want you to know that I'll always be around to listen. Actually, even if I'm not in 'Bukuro, you can call me and talk for as long as you need. I don't want to hear about you committing suicide because of a lowly girl who doesn't appreciate what she's got."

"It's great that you're concerned about me committing suicide out of sorrow. Shows how much faith you've got in me." The bartender rolled his eyes and smiled. "About your little draught comment; it would be a bit difficult to store a keg somewhere back here." He gestured to the glass wall of various alcohols in bottles and cans, along with countless rows of pop for the alcopop drinkers. "Glass shelves don't agree with it much." He patted the shelves preciously.

Ryan nodded. "I remember when someone threw something back here and they had to be replaced- that was a bad time." Recalling all of the blue tinted glass that was literally everywhere along the wall and how much _fun_ it was maneuvering over it barefoot to get to the back room.

"Oh man, that sucked." The bartender agreed, plucking the dancer's phone out of his back pocket. He passed it to her, the device buzzing and the LED flashing. "How are things with your sister in town?" he asked suddenly, smirking and raising his eyebrows. The ravenette had already complained about the brattiness of her sister, and part of the situation regarding their mother.

She sighed and sipped from the bottle. "Oh blimey, that kid's got a mouth." The dancer waved the bottle to express her annoyance. "I've had to make runs for her and her 'non red meat diet' all week - fucking all I eat is red meat, most of the time - and she got me locked out of my phone on her second day." Dainty hands tapped at the screen of her phone at the mention. The text being sent was actually a response to the girl at hand.

The tender hummed. "And she's staying with you for... who knows how long. Right?"

"Unfortunately." Ryan confirmed. "I love her to bits, and it's been four years since I've spent more than a week with her, but she's definitely got more attitude than I ever had. But mum's sepsis isn't going away, even with the medication, and she doesn't want Eddie to see her in later stages."

"It would tear her apart, hm?"

The dancer nodded and looked into the crowd. Bodies moved and dancers from her set still hovered in the crowd, drinking from men's glasses of alcohol and rubbing up on them for extra bills. With a groan, Ryan laid back on the cool glass. The bartender patted her head reassuringly and told her it would be okay.

She patted his side and told him the same, flashing a dimpled smile. Her snakebites poked out of her bottom lip oddly at the expression, the backs pressing to her teeth. As shr returned to a sitting position, a man down the way with black hair and light roots locked his eyes on her again. He sipped at the drink he'd been nursing since the dancer arrived at the bar and slowly stood.

The bartender cast him a look when he took note of the man as he uneasily left the ravenette to tend to arriving customers. With a breath, he resumed his work, swiping excess water out of tall glasses before mixing alcopop for several women.

The man taking the dancer as his prey slowly moved towards her. A grin was spread over his lips as he, nearly prowled, walking to her at a leisurely pace. She took note of him again and appraised him with contacted eyes. They were a fluorescent pink, standing out amongst her all black attire of choice for that night. Glow in the dark body paint, too, adorned exposed skin. It was streaked over her arms, thighs, and abdomen in flowering designs that took far too long to have drawn on.

Before the man could reach her, the bartender darted back and put an arm over her shoulder. He whispered for her to go along with it, and, that, she did. They made senseless small talk like they had time and time before, putting up a relationship act to get people to back away. This time it was a drunken idiot, and it was going quite well. Ryan's giggles and a small kiss on the bartender's cheek had the black-haired drunk backing up with a dismayed look on his face - he wouldn't be getting any tail from her, for sure. Even in a normal situation, he'd get slapped before he ever had that gratitude of womanly curves.

Once she was sure he'd backed off, Ryan peeled her nearly bare, painted torso from the bartender's. She gave a meek smile and hugged his waist as he made his bubble of personal space once more. "Sorry if the kiss on the cheek bothered you. I just had to be convincing, " she uttered. The bartender shook his head.

"Oh, it's fine, " he said. "You've done it before, and all it is, is a way to get guys to back off of. I know how much you hate being harassed by drunks, and I don't blame you." Giving a reassuring smile, he snatched the towel out of his back pocket again and wiped the inside of a martini glass out for a pink-haired raver approached the bar.

The pinkette appraised the dancer with a smile and complimented her outfit - it was classic raver garb, fluffies, fishnets, and all. She then asked the bartender for creme de menthe, to which he obliged.

Not too far away, the ravenette gave a nod of approval and watched the bartender fetch a tall-necked bottle of green liquor from the shelf and easily pour it. He dropped a cherry into it and nodded, sliding it to the pinkette who gladly accepted it and paid, before bouncing back to a group of similarly-dressed woman at one of the tables.

Small conversing went on between the bartender and Ryan over the course of the next half hour, before the latter's phone buzzing interrupted once more.

She quickly made a reply and sighed, sliding off the bar and behind the counter with the tender, who stood much taller than her. "The kid's sick." she muttered. The bartender opened his mouth to speak, to be interrupted by a warm hug from the small woman before him. "That girl's not good enough for you, Kyle."

A wide smile came to his lips at the reassuring words. "I guess so.. Hope your sister feels better." he said, patting her shoulder as she deftly moved past him and to the back room, to dress.

Ryan hurriedly pulled on her street clothes. She sighed after discarding the black attire she worked in, tossing the clothes into a locker with her name scrawled over it in kanji. Buckling her belt and straightening the hoodie that hung off of her, she jogged from the back room and waved to Kyle, who did in return, before slipping into the crowd. She cursed and pushed, eventually making her way to the front.

The bouncer bid her goodbye as she left. The ravenette hummed in return and walked down the dark streets. Neon lights flickered and buzzed in the late night's silence and street lights were scattered here and there.

Gang members loitered on the sidewalks occasionally, casting Ryan animalistic looks as she passed alone. The perfect opportunity to snatch a girl, the dead of night. No one would know she was gone if it happened at the late hour, unless she was killed and her body was simply left, like the recent murder victims had been discovered. The men chuckled to themselves as the ravenette gave them strange looks in return to their stares.

They looked like hungry beasts, she concluded. Just like the men in the club who hounded her and were so desperate for attentions, as to give hundred bills at a time. On the nights she left with more than three hundred tucked into her pocket was saddening. Not the amount of money, no - that was a great thing. It was the willingness of men, and even some women, to drop bills like they were nothing, just to keep the dancers moving and to possibly sate whatever hunger for sex rose during the sets.

Some of the regulars actually lusted after the dancers. Usually it was after the ones who willingly flaunted themselves and exposed the small parts that their clothes covered.

The crowd of work she moved with wasn't that of strippers, but most of them may as well have gone into the business. The club's founder, even in a different country, asked that the women not do such things, though it happened anyway. Ryan sighed in frustration at the extensive thoughts of her coworkers' carelessness.

After countless minutes of walking, the ravenette heard a clatter, and turned just in time to have a blade lash dangerously close to her throat. Instead of its intended place of contact, the metal sliced open the flesh just under her collar. Blood oozed from the new wound and a hiss escaped the woman's lips as she pressed her hand flat against it.

The attacker recoiled and moved towards her again, blade moving quickly. Blood rolled off of it in droplets, just as the red seeped from under pale digits. Another cut opened up on her forearm, and another on her abdomen as she hopped back, shouldering a step back one at a time. Her hand caught the stranger's wrist as the blade was brought down again, its tip barely grazing the side of her throat.

"You do realise that I'm not normal." she breathed, trying to get a glimpse of the attacker. She was taken aback when the shady stranger nodded in agreement. She scowled and tightened her grip on his wrist, bone breakingly tight.

The attacker noticeably cringed at the pressure, but kept cool. "Of course. You're nothing but a monster... A beautiful one, though." the stranger uttered with a laugh, watching amusedly as the blue-eyed woman seemed to bristle at the comment. "You know, you're foolish for wandering this late." He quickly twisted and had Ryan shoved to the nearby wall. He smirked when she gasped for air when it was knocked out from the force.

After a brief, ragged intake of breath and another cut dealt by the attacker, the ravenette coughed. "Just as you are, for trying to hurt me. I suggest you back off." she said dryly. Terror rippled through the ravenette, but she kept composure on the outside. From all the crime shows and horror movies she'd scene in the past, she knew that the last thing she wanted to do was show the attacker - or possibly even killer - that he was getting the better of his victim.

She writhed to create just enough space, before pulling her knee to her chest. Before the stranger could retort, she kicked out and watched as they stumbled back and landed on their rear. With a curt wave, she broke into a pained sprint.

After what felt like an eternity passed, she stopped running. The wounds she'd received throbbed in time to the erratic beating of her hearts, the ooze of blood growing with each pound. She panted and pressed her palms to her thighs, in a hunch.

Spitting curses, she watched as blood dripped from the incision on her collarbone, while the front of her hoodie, which had been a gift from an old friend, was cut open in several places. Blood soaked around the incisions, making the fabric stick to pale skin.

Minutes passed, and Ryan finally straightened up and walked up countless stairs. Once the everly familiar door came into view, she quickened her pace and jammed keys into locks, pushing into the fair air of her apartment. "Eddie, " she called hesitantly, blue eyes flicking about wildly. Shock and adrenaline still messed with her mind.

"Bathroom!" A gasp came in reply. A blanket trailed across the carpet, hastily thrown aside in a race to the toilet. The girl was on her knees, arm across the toilet seat and forehead resting on her arm. "Bullocks." She muttered. Her face was a sickly, pale shade teetering between a pale tan and green.

Sighing, the ravenette kicked off her shoes and walked into the bathroom, stepping over the blanket that lay across the floor. "So you're barfy-sick..." she muttered with a frown. Her face twisted with thought as she recalled all the times she helped friends with stomach problems - though theirs were from drinking far too much, not bugs. Kneeling next to Eden and diverting her eyes from the inside of the toilet, she dug through the cabinet underneath the sink, tossing half-empty bottles over her shoulder in attempt to find something to ease her sister's stomach.

Without looking up, she muttered, "Your face's the color of green tea ice cream." She heard Eden give an exasperated sigh. Even in her sick state, irritation was clear. "Sorry, but it's what I think of. Unless you'd like to be compared with a honeydew."

The blonde sighed and her tired blue gaze flicked to her sister. "What..." She saw the red staining the pale spans of exposed skin on her sister's collar.

Ryan continued shoving through the cabinet's contents, breathing frustratedly, as she, too, searched for bandages and painkillers as well as the syrup that would calm the teen's stomach. "I'm sorry that you got a bug, " she sighed eventually, finding the pink bottle of Pepto deep in the cupboard. "Hopefully this-" She turned and eyes widened; Eden had fainted.

* * *

**If you've made it this far, thank you. I hope I haven't bored you too much with this new one. There will be quite a share more interesting things happening soon... I hope. Depending on what my beta wants to do, too. Eden's actually her character, and I might not have done too well . u . I updated without her approval on Eden. Lol. Until next chapter~**


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